


Class

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek - Various Authors, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Anal Sex, Crossdressing Kink, Dom/sub, Dominance, Humiliation, M/M, Submission, mild breathplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 08:07:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim provides Spock’s cousin with a provocative experience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Class

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ritsuko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ritsuko/gifts).



> A/N: Stephen is a Vulcan featured in the excellent TOS novel [_Enterprise: The First Adventure_](http://startrekreviews.tumblr.com/post/72816842600/tos-novel-enterprise-the-first-adventure). He’s the juggler in a circus and his primary goal in life is to properly experience emotions. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

When Jim first saw _Dionysus_ lilting across his viewscreen, his stomach had tightened. He remembered then, remembers now, the trouble the pilot caused him. Jim still finds Spock difficult most days—his constant strive to be emotionless isn’t something Jim can understand—but Spock’s cousin, while the complete opposite, is far worse.

Jim hoped Stephen might’ve changed. But the blond haired, blue eyed Vulcan had appeared on the viewscreen with the same hollow smile, requesting _asylum_ and something much _more_.

The Klingon pursuit had nothing to do with it. Jim knows that now, is perfectly aware that what Stephen said in the privacy of shuttle bay one was the real reason—Stephen’s always been a thrill seeker. He sought Jim out specifically, just for _this_.

Emotion. Jim can hardly keep it off his face as the Vulcan strolls into his quarters, pace just as short and clipped as Spock’s. Controlled. Stephen won’t have any control here; that’s part of what he wants. He wants Jim to show him _emotion_. Jim said _yes_ with a lump in his throat and even then wasn’t sure what it meant. 

He knows now. The clouded end of his shifts and the busy lunch conversations and the subtle gestures and hints and rerouted messages couldn’t be more obvious, and though Jim might’ve once said _no_ , he couldn’t here. He’s worked with Spock enough to have a burning curiosity at just what Vulcans are like, stripped away from all that mess, brought down to Jim’s level. Jim has a penchant for aliens, anyway. And he’s not exactly relationship conservative. 

Stephen is too thrilling and willing to please, and he turns around the barrier into Jim’s bedroom, blue eyes on hazel. Jim lets his PADD drop to the nightstand, his body already laid out on the bed. He knew this was coming. Or at lest, he hoped. He couldn’t have been completely sure that Stephen would come. Spock wouldn’t. 

Stephen isn’t Spock. 

It’s never clearer than when he pulls the drawstring out from his robe, slipping the fabric over his shoulders to let it tumble to the floor. The silky, white material slithers down his pale skin, and he stands before Jim in everything Jim asked, lips in a gentle, hollow smile. 

“I received your message, Captain.”

“Jim,” Jim corrects, the lump in his throat back again. “First names foster more intimacy.” Stephen lifts a yellow eyebrow: an all too familiar gesture.

Then he places his hands on his hips, and though his posture’s perfect, it’s far from a Vulcan position. It lets his crotch jut forward, bringing extra attention to the tight black panties, laced around the edges and nearly sheer, a pink bow on the front. It perfectly compliments the corset that reaches from just above his belly button to just below his rosy nipples, hugging his body just right. It’s pulled taut. The elegant boning nearly gives him feminine curves, and the rich fabric looks particularly expensive on his exotic skin. Jim, perhaps, should’ve sent stockings to complete the look. 

For now, this will do. Stephen tries to take a step forward, and Jim barks in his best captain’s voice, “Stay.” Stephen halts abruptly, still under Jim’s gaze. Jim wants a minute just to _look_.

Besides, he muses aloud, “This is to teach you embarrassment.” Stephen cocks his head slightly; he wasn’t clear enough on _which_ emotions. He handles the surprise well. His hips slowly rock to the side, almost posing, and Jim licks his lips. Are all Vulcans built like this? Lithe and tall, Stephen’s a vision of beauty. His sunshine hair, long for a Vulcan, frames his face perfectly. His bow lips look so tantalizingly kissable, but they betray no intonation. Jim takes a good, long moment to drink his fill of this sight, then asks, “Feeling it?”

Stephen shakes his head slightly. There’s a flicker of frustration across his eyes—he’s always so _bitter_ about being _hollow_ , which in a way, makes Jim want to laugh—isn’t frustration an emotion? But he’s never been in Stephen’s head; he doesn’t know.

He says, “You should be, all done up like that for another man. _Illogical,_ isn’t it? Wearing clothes purely for aesthetic reasons, in a style that’s not even meant to fit you. What would your father say if he could see you like this?” Stephen visibly stiffens, and Jim, knowing he’s found a nerve, presses harder, “All of your family, really. But then, we know some of them have an interest in human women, must like that clothing... what would Sarek do if I sent him a few pictures of you dressed up for me? He’d push to have you disowned, but behind closed doors, I bet he’d jerk off to his own nephew’s image, come all over your pictures...”

Stephen says, voice just a little bit tight, “He wouldn’t do that.” Jim merely lifts an eyebrow. He’d _never_ cross this line with Spock, but Stephen has a safe word, and he knows Stephen wants this. 

“How do you know? He’s probably fucked that human wife of his in something similar. He’d probably love it, want to run his hands all over you. And you know what they say; like father, like son. How do you know Spock wouldn’t feel the same way—wouldn’t that be nice, your own cousin lusting after you. ...But maybe you’re right. Maybe he’d disapprove; maybe he’d stalk right over and rip all that thin fabric from your body, leave you bare and shivering under his stern gaze...” Stephen’s lips part, but he doesn’t breath a word. 

Smirking, Jim shifts on the bed, climbing off it. Stephen watches him warily but doesn’t move. Stephen’s being unusually quiet. Jim strolls closer, closer, until he’s walking right around Stephen, and when Stephen tries to turn, Jim snaps, “Stay still.” Stephen obeys. 

Jim slowly comes to his back. The corset is done all the way up in crisscrossed pink lace, tied in a bow at the top. Jim wriggles his fingers into one of the crosses, yanking on it suddenly and so hard that Stephen gasps; Jim debates crushing the air out of his lungs. In low oxygen, his senses might be heightened; perhaps Jim should tighten the corset so much that it’d leave marks on Stephen’s pretty skin, make every breath a hard-earned gift from his new master. Holding the thread taut, Jim leans forward to purr across Stephen’s neck, “You should be very, very embarrassed, my little Vulcan, because for all your desperation and whining, that’s exactly what you are. And last I checked, Vulcans don’t go about debasing themselves for someone else’s pleasure. You were so smart, Spock tells me. Had connections, had skills—could’ve been anything you wanted, and yet, here you are; nothing but a pathetic, needy pet, sulking at a human’s feet.” Stephen tilts his head slightly, bright eyes trying to look at Jim, and Jim only grins. Even if the degradation doesn’t work for Stephen, he’s having fun with it. 

It will work, Jim knows. For all of Spock’s composure, he can be nettled down, just like any other man. Stephen can’t be that different. Stephen searches Jim’s face and looks back around. 

Jim fists a hand in Stephen’s long curls, holding them up and out of the way, exposing the back of his neck. Jim presses a light, lingering kiss there, then opens his mouth, drags his teeth along Stephen’s skin, and bites _hard_. He can feel Stephen shiver beneath him, and Jim keeps going until he’s sure there’ll be a deep bruise, something to last. He lets go, and he lets Stephen’s hair down, the lower strands just barely covering it. Jim places his hand on Stephen’s waist, slipping down to the small patch of skin between corset and panties. He ducks his fingers into the side of the panties, and Jim turns his head to lick the end of one pointed ear. Stephen shivers harder, and Jim closes his teeth around it. The frail skin is too delicate to crush and mark like he did elsewhere, but he can still nibble and lick. His fingers dart suddenly around to the front, cupping Stephen’s crotch through the panties, and Stephen gasps. His head tilts back, just above Jim’s shoulder. Jim palms his cock and grinds into his ass. Jim’s harder, already halfway there, and he lets Stephen know it. They should’ve done this a long time ago, back on that first trip. But Jim was a different man, then. Young and inexperienced. Now...

Now he knows how to make Stephen _scream_ , but he starts with low hisses in Stephen’s ear, “You should be more than embarrassed. You should be _ashamed_. Coming here like you did, just begging me to fuck you, then trailing after me like a lovesick puppy, slinking around my bridge, practically wetting your panties... you’re lucky I didn’t fuck you right in my chair, put your pretty body on display for all to see. I still might. How would you feel then, hm? Would you cry? Or maybe you’d love it. I bet just thinking about it gets you going...” Jim kneads Stephen’s crotch while he goes, and it does respond, twitching once and beginning to harden. “Maybe you thought you were a true Vulcan, always neutral, but this outfit is the proof for both of us that you’re not. At the end of the day, you’re no better than a Terran—a slave to your lust.” Jim’s fingers squeeze extra hard as he hisses, punctuating each word, “My. Filthy. _Slave_.”

Stephen’s head lands on Jim’s shoulder. Jim uses his free hand to pull a part of the corset tighter again, and Stephen arches higher, lifting to his toes, breath hitching. Jim tugs the bow free. 

Jim starts at the bottom, working his way up, and he deftly pulls each stringer tighter, the corset so snug that Stephen makes a pained grunt but doesn’t protest. Jim’s not usually one for pain in the bedroom, but he knows Vulcans have a high tolerance, and he wants Stephen overloaded. He’s so unforgiving with the lace that he’s sure it’ll break, but it holds firm. As he nears the top again, he kisses the side of Stephen’s face and murmurs, “Ashamed?” After a minute, Stephen still doesn’t answer, and Jim chuckles, “Or maybe guilty, because it’s not shame you feel, but _arousal_...” One of Stephen’s hands reaches back for Jim’s hip, and Jim lets it cling there while he finishes. 

He reties the bow and double knots it—if Stephen were human, he’d be shaking, passing out. Instead, he’s still, while Jim runs busy hands all down his sides, tracing his faux-curves. Just because Jim occasionally takes men into his bed doesn’t mean he doesn’t like curves. He shoves Stephen forward suddenly, wanting a better look. 

Stephen stumbles, uncharacteristically ungraceful. He catches himself on the bed and this time knows better than to move. Jim steps closer, admiring the way the thin panties fail to come even close to properly covering Stephen’s round ass. Jim’s lecherous mind vacillates between picturing Stephen in the full getup—heels, stockings, maybe even a Starfleet dress—and picturing Stephen in nothing. Jim owns every volume of the classic erotica _My Pet Vulcan_ , and he can’t help but think that Stephen would be the author’s dream. Vulcans always make good servants in stories—they’re skilled and well behaved. Stephen, beneath that, has the _desire_ , and he’s a rarity on top of it. There aren’t many blond Vulcans. There are less with clear eyes. When Stephen glances over his shoulder again, Jim doesn’t correct him. 

Jim strolls back around to the head of the bead, climbing onto the folded blankets. He leans back against the headboard, staring at his prey, while Stephen clearly struggles to breathe. One more point of control. Jim crooks one finger and orders smoothly, “Come here.”

Stephen climbs up onto the bed. He crawls forward on all fours, hesitating at Jim’s feet. Jim gestures him closer. He closes the distance, sitting up on his knees and straddling Jim’s lap. He puts his fingertips on Jim’s still-clothed shoulders, and Jim pulls him in by the hips. Jim slips his fingers into the back of Stephen’s panties and starts to play with his ass, squeezing both cheeks. Stephen looks down at Jim, eyes growing cloudy. Jim purrs, “Is the corset too much for you, pet?”

Stephen says, “No,” and though the word is plain, his voice is a fraction huskier. Jim smirks; he shouldn’t have phrased it that way. He doesn’t care what they say; Vulcans are a proud people. 

“Is it uncomfortable?”

Stephen hesitates. They also say Vulcan’s can’t lie. For a man who’s spent so much of his life trying _not_ to be Vulcan, Stephen’s being remarkably tight-lipped. Probably way out of his league. Stephen licks his lips and says, “It... it places a strain on my lungs...” The breathy way he talks makes Jim understand; he’s using short words because anything more is difficult. His side beats faster for a moment, trying to recover, and then his eyes close, clearly trying to relax into it. The way his pecs strain against the top of the corset is too alluring, and Jim has to resist the urge to forgo talking in favour of biting Stephen’s rosy nipples. Nestled in the lace, they’re brushed and stimulated to pebbles on every fluctuating breath. Stephen licks his lips again, forgets the forced use of contractions, and mumbles, “It is uncomfortable...”

“Do you want me to let you take it off?” Jim purrs. He runs his hands down Stephen’s thighs, soft skin beneath his fingers. He can see from the short tufts above the panties that Stephen’s naturally blond. He leans in to kiss Stephen’s jaw while he waits. Stephen tilts his head aside, giving more room. It would be so easy for Jim to wrap his fingers around Stephen’s neck, introduce some proper breath-play, but he tells himself Stephen’s had enough. “If you do, all you need to do is ask...”

“Take it off,” Stephen asks, just a little too quick. Jim chuckles and kisses Stephen’s high cheekbone. 

“Ask nicer.”

“Please take it off of me—”

“Beg,” Jim nearly snarls. He reaches back around, tugging at the bow, but it’s impossible to pull tighter. Stephen still looks pained, but maybe that’s more at the notion of _begging_. His mouth falls open, and he sucks in breath. 

“Jim, please take this... off of me. I... I beg you...” He has to keep pausing, running out of air, and his voice wavers but is still far, far too steady to be what Jim wants. Jim nips at Stephen’s jaw. 

Jim growls, “I don’t care if you feel emotion or not—pretend you do. Unless you want me to fuck you unconscious in your cage, you better beg me better, Vulcan.” He lifts one knee and rubs it between Stephen’s legs for emphasis—Stephen bites his bottom lip. He rolls his hips once. 

He tries again, voice straining to please, trying to moan in a cheap imitation of a porn star, “Please, _please_ undress me, Jim.” With a sudden gleam in his eye, he changes to, “Undress me, _master_.” He grinds his crotch into Jim’s leg, half-hard. “Please strip me down...”

It could still use work. But it’s only their first lesson, so Jim cuts Stephen slack. He grabs Stephen’s chin and pulls it down, forcing Stephen into a harsh kiss. His tongue comes out to trace Stephen’s bottom lip, touching for the first time, so soft and moist. Stephen’s whole body is warm. He doesn’t seem to know what to do, so Jim pulls back and orders, “Open your mouth.” Stephen instantly obeys. Jim dives back in to push his tongue inside. Stephen’s is compliant, and Jim teases it and traces Stephen’s teeth while he steals Stephen’s breath, until Stephen’s nearly convulsing in his arms. 

He pulls away to let Stephen splutter, and he leans back against the headboard, watching Stephen’s cheeks overheat with green. Through his gasps, Stephen’s eyes dazedly watch Jim, and Jim merely relaxes, smiles. When Stephen finally recovers, Jim allows, “Take it off.”

A human might stumble with the order. Vulcans are more dexterous, and Stephen’s hands easily shoot behind himself, fiddling with the bow. He tugs the corset loose bit by bit, sighing in relief as he’s released. When he tugs it free, he folds it in two and places it beside them on the bed, looking back at Jim. Jim eyes the now-exposed outlines of a six-pack, a taut, smooth stomach and lean sides. He’s just as attractive on his own. His skin’s a darker shade where the corset hugged him, and there are faint green lines from the boning. Marked. _Perfect_.

“Bones can heal these later,” Jim muses, tracing one line with one finger. “...But if you want your emotions so badly, I suggest you hold onto them and look at them later, see what memories they give you...” Stephen nods, like he wouldn’t have dreamed of erasing the evidence. 

He mumbles, “Thank you.”

Jim tells him, “Gratitude’s illogical.” Isn’t that what Spock always says? Or at least, Sarek’s said that to him. Stephen frowns. Jim tilts his head aside and kisses his neck, biting down to leave another groove. Jim tugs his hair half to keep him turned properly, half because it’s so tempting, long like this. It’s like silk in Jim’s fingers, and he brushes through it while he mouths along Stephen’s throat. His other hand slips beneath the panties, fingers encircling Stephen’s cock. Stephen tenses, and Jim strokes it while he chuckles darkly. Vulcan’s aren’t sexual creatures, or at least, pretend they aren’t, only go wild once every seven years. Jim’s nowhere near willing to wait that long. 

His teeth graze back to Stephen’s ear, and he purrs, “Feeling desperation yet?” 

Stephen tells him evasively, “I’m interested.” Jim kisses his cheek. Jim kisses around to his mouth. 

Jim kisses him deeply, squeezing Stephen’s cock while he thrusts his tongue into Stephen’s mouth, and he holds Stephen in by the hair, giving no reprieve. Stephen tries to kiss back, tongue copying Jim’s, but Jim’s got the practice, the control, and he dominates the kiss easily. Stephen doesn’t fight him, just tries to keep up. Perfect. He’s learning. Jim strokes Stephen’s cock in time with the kiss, surging into both movements, until Stephen’s hips are rocking smoothly into Jim’s hand. Not so asexual after all. Jim smirks against Stephen’s lips, and he slides his fingers down to the base of Stephen’s cock, pleased at what he finds. 

“You put on your ring?” Jim asks. 

Stephen says amidst efforts to try and pull Jim back into a kiss, “I said I wanted this and I’d do what you asked. No matter how... strange.” The word choice is careful. His hips keep moving.

Jim taps the code in to tighten and lock the cock ring—Stephen hisses in surprise, arching up. “A lesson in frustration,” Jim muses, as his hand returns to stroking, as though nothing’s changed. His voice lowers as he purrs into Stephen’s cheek, “I want you desperate, what you needy...”

“All the bad emotions,” Stephen says hollowly, but he leans into every movement Jim makes. When Jim pulls back, Stephen quickly leans forward, insisting, “Don’t stop.”

“The bad comes with the good,” Jim insists. It’s true, in a way, and many of them are easy to draw out; Vulcans needy easy starts. Jim has years of schooling and training to counteract, and he does it the best way he knows how: teasing Stephen’s long cock with torturous touches, promising a mind-blowing orgasm just beyond reach. Jim licks his way across Stephen’s bottom lip, then asks, “When was the last time you touched yourself?”

“Vulcans don’t do such things,” Stephen insists. Jim snorts and kisses his chin, tugging his hair back again for more throat access. While Jim laves over his bobbing adam’s apple, Stephen admits breathily, “However... in my quest, I did attempt the action two months ago...”

Jim could never go that long without sex. He doesn’t have to. Thinking about Stephen alone on his little ship, curled up on his bunk with his hands between his legs makes Jim harder, and he’s already _so hard_. Deciding he’s had enough foreplay, he withdraws both his hands. 

He uses them to tug down Stephen’s panties, stretched near to breaking down his thighs, and his hard cock springs free, jutting proudly out. It’s thick and particularly long, greenish near the tip and snaked in under-the-surface veins, pulsing lightly under Jim’s gaze. Jim smirks down at it and cups it appreciatively, thumbing the top. He does enjoy a good alien dick. Below it, Stephen’s balls are tight and hairless. The mechanical cocking is in stark contrast to the rest of the colourful, pretty cock, blazing hot in Jim’s hand. It’s got a good weight to it. When he glances back up, he’s sure Stephen’s looking nervous for his approval. 

Jim asks, “Did you prepare yourself?” Stephen merely nods. Good. Jim doesn’t think he’d have the patience right now to sit through anything else. He grabs both cheeks of Stephen’s ass, squeezes them harshly and lifts Stephen up by them, shuffling them closer. He leans back against the headboard and sighs, “Take out my cock.”

Stephen lifts an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. His hands drop to Jim’s crotch, and he carefully pulls the zipper. As he reaches into Jim’s pants, he breathes, “Captain... Jim... you’re not going to undress...?”

“Why?” Jim smirks. “Did you want to see me naked?”

“I’m sure I would’ve found the experience... agreeable.” Nevertheless, Stephen frees Jim from his pants. Stephen positions himself over it, hardly needing Jim to guide him, but Jim lines them up, anyway. His eyes flicker up to Stephen’s, holding them. Last chance to back out without a scratch. But Stephen looks ready, willing. Jim lets go of his hips, and he seems to consider. 

Then he shoves his weight down all at once, gasping as Jim’s cock shoves inside him. Jim hisses, teeth grit—he wasn’t expecting that, didn’t even tease and open Stephen’s hole, and now the puckered ring of muscles is sucking at his cock, taking a third of it, stretched and wet. It’s tight, very tight, and so, so hot, and Stephen keeps trying to push himself further down. It must hurt, but Jim’s hardly about to stop him. Jim lets him push, lets him impale himself bit by bit, until he’s stuck two thirds of the way down and pants, “J... Jim...”

Taking pity, Jim grabs his trim waist and holds him still. Jim pistons himself in properly, out and in, stimulating and loosening Stephen’s walls. Stephen groans, takes it, and puts his hands back on Jim’s shoulders, fingers fisting in the fabric. Jim’s going to keep all of his clothes on; keep Stephen wanting more, wanting a next time. And it’s part of the power play. He works his way as far up Stephen’s ass as he can go; he’s no small man himself. When he’s fully seated, he lets Stephen collapse in his lap, breathing hard. Jim wonders vaguely if he’s ever had anything up his ass before, even a finger. To think he spent so many years trying vainly to reclaim emotion and never tried a vibrator. Jim nearly laughs. 

He rolls his hips up, makes Stephen gasp, and grunts, “Well?” Stephen looks at him curiously. “Fuck yourself.” Jim rolls his hips again for emphasis. “Fuck yourself on my cock like you know you want.” Something flickers across Stephen’s face again, and he nods, obeying. 

He forces himself to sit up on trembling thighs, cock slipping halfway out, and he drops back down, groaning loudly. He rocks his hips once, then lifts up again. Jim holds his waist loosely but lets him do the work. He’s exceptionally _tight_. He’s good at it, too, once he really starts—Jim can feel Stephen examining his face, judging reactions and learning. Soon the wet, filthy sounds of Stephen bouncing up and down on Jim’s cock fill the air, the scent of sex mingling in. Jim grins. 

He asks lazily, “Want to try for jealousy, too?” And Stephen stares at him, long and hard. 

Stephen nods. Jim slaps the side of his ass, chuckling, “Good boy.” Stephen looks down, concentrating. His hips come up, press down, knees straining with each movement, and his hard cock bounces uselessly against his stomach, untouched. Jim strokes his thigh and murmurs, “Because you have a lot to be jealous of. Just think, while you’re out in space all alone, trying so hard to be more than a robot, your dear cousin Spock gets to spend every day with me. For all you know, he gets to ride my big cock every night. You have no idea the things I can make him feel, the noises I have him make. I just have to _look_ at him on the bridge, and he nearly shivers in anticipation, knowing just what I’ll put him through.” Stephen glances up through his mess of blond bangs. In that instant, Jim _knows_ he’s jealous. Maybe always has been. Spock was born with something Stephen never had. Spock has to struggle not to smile, not to laugh, things that Stephen can barely grasp. Jim chuckles darkly, “You try _so hard_ , and you’ll never have what he does, never be what he is.” 

As Stephen’s eyes slip closed, Jim leans forward, whispering in Stephen’s bouncing ear, “But don’t despair, darling. You’ve come to the right place to fix that.” Stephen has a sharp intake of breath over ‘darling’—something tender. 

His hips still don’t stop, fucking himself hard, and Jim lets a few more thrusts go by before he hisses, “Mind meld with me.”

Stephen stops abruptly. His hips drop, and he grunts as Jim’s cock sheaths inside him, and he pants as he looks at Jim, eyebrows scrunched together. Jim simply smirks. 

“I’ve learned a bit more about those since we last saw each other, Stephen.” Jim’s fingers run up and down his thighs, lightly clawing over fragile skin—Stephen’s trembling with need. If it hurts, he hasn’t complained. Maybe Vulcans were built to take cock, even if they never try it. Jim takes a hold of Stephen’s hard dick and squeezes, drawing out a strangled groan as he asks, “You wouldn’t disobey your master now, would you?”

Stephen mutters, “It is... it’s dangerous...”

“I know what I’m doing,” Jim growls. “I’ve had practice.” Stephen looks lost, reluctant—the last time he did this, Spock’s explained to Jim, he lost any semblance of emotion he’d learned to keep. But that was entering _Spock’s_ head under duress, and this is different. Jim purrs, “Trust me.” He cocks one eyebrow, challenging. Stephen’s supposed to be a thrill seeker. Given the stunts he’s pulled, is this really so odd?

Stephen must come to the same conclusion, because he lifts his hand to Jim’s face, and he splays his fingers around it. Stephen whispers, “You’re sure?”

Jim orders: “Do it.”

With a nod and a few muttered words, it happens. 

Jim jerks forward. Their heads connect, all at once, a sudden rush of heat and strength and sound waves hard to decipher, a whole new _being_ crashing into his mind. He shoves Stephen down in bed, their bodies still connected, until Stephen hits the mattress and Jim’s looming over him, up on all fours, legs in the air. Their minds weaving together, nonsensical—there’s no purpose to this mind meld, just the torrential flood of _connection_ —and Jim knows exactly what to throw through it, doesn’t even hesitate. He pulls half out of Stephen’s ass and _slams_ inside with the force of a Klingon, growling as he makes Stephen gasp. It feels good, so good, and he pushes that pleasure into Stephen’s head, lets Stephen know just how sweet and tight and hot his ass is, just how much Jim’s enjoying it. Jim does it again and sends the same through, then again, then again, working into a frenzied rhythm. He fucks Stephen wildly, like some feral animal, pounds him hard into the bed and makes him cry out on every thrust, splitting his body in two with Jim’s superior human cock. He can feel Stephen’s hard dick between them, and he asks through the bond, _You want to come, pet?_

Stephen just groans, in his head and aloud, writhes beneath Jim’s cock, and Jim fucks him _so hard_. Whatever version of a prostate Vulcan’s have, Jim’s hitting it; Stephen’s lips part and he moans, arching, cock so, so stiff, so needy. Jim doesn’t touch it. Jim shoves more through their minds, bundles all his lust and desire and desperation up, slathers it all over Stephen’s head. He can feel Stephen on the edge of it, cold and unsure, fumbling what little emotion he has, and Jim sweeps it away in a flood of colour. Stephen bucks up and _screams_ , like a robot short-circuiting. Jim pushes more, more. He thinks of Stephen kneeling between his legs on the bridge, sucking his cock, and he thinks of Stephen crushed between him and Spock, being fucked back and forth, and then he thinks of Sarek dressing Stephen up in lingerie and coming all over him, and Jim lets Stephen know exactly what those images do to him. He thinks of every sick, raunchy fantasy he’s ever had about the strangest Vulcan Jim’s ever met, and he pushes everything that made him _feel_ with it. Stephen’s eyes are rolling back in his head, thighs wrapping tight around Jim’s waist. He looks ruined. His cheeks are green and his pupils have almost taken over the crystal blue around them. His lips are kiss-swollen and open, gasping for air. He’s absolutely _gorgeous_.

Jim fucks him hard and roars into Stephen’s fragile head, _You like that, don’t deny it. This is all you’ve ever wanted, more than you’ve ever felt before—you’re so desperate and horny and frantic for my cock you can barely stand it. You’re a debauched, traitorous little shit of a Vulcan, and you wish your father could see you right now, shaming your whole damn race. I don’t just give you emotion; I give you everything. You’re so overwhelmed you don’t know what to feel._

Stephen looks like his heart’s exploding. He breaks, crying into Jim’s head and into the air, “Please,” so loud, and his eyes prickle, throat nearly hoarse. He begs, “Please, please...” over and over like some wild mantra. His hips are lifting back up to meet Jim’s thrusts. Jim yanks Stephen’s hand away from his face. The connection lingers, he can feel it, still fucks Stephen through it.

He slams down, tongue diving right into Stephen’s mouth. He kisses Stephen hard and tugs his hair, fucks him with tongue and cock and mind, while he slips his other hand passed the pulled-up panties. He’s not going to last much longer. Debasing Stephen like this is good, so good, and Stephen’s ass is sheer bliss, his submission and surrender and beautiful body so wonderful. Even with all of Jim’s skill and experience, it’s too much. He keeps Stephen’s mouth busy, getting closer, closer. 

He waits until the very last minute, and then he keys the simple code into the cock ring, ripping it off. He tosses it halfway across the room, not stopping for a moment, and he tilts his head aside to free Stephen’s mouth. 

Stephen _shrieks_. He screams so hard that Scotty’ll probably hear it all the way down in Engineering. His cock bursts, white jets of cum shooting up between them, splattering Jim’s chin, and Jim doesn’t stop, fucks Stephen right through it. He grabs Stephen’s cock and points it down, letting the spray soak over Stephen’s chest, and he watches Stephen’s face mid-orgasm, overwhelmed and perfect. 

Jim comes a second later with a pleased growl and rocking hips. They slow but keep going, rolling, milking himself out. He lets all of his pleasure and ecstasy soak through the bond, draping over all of Stephen’s. He knows Stephen’s over-stimulated. He knows Stephen’s nearly convulsing with the overload. He piles it on anyway, and even when he finally finishes, he doesn’t pull out right away. 

He disentangles himself from Stephen’s clinging arms, and he sits up, looking down. He’s panting himself, but not as hard as Stephen. Stephen stares up at the ceiling, glassy eyed. 

For a moment, Jim thinks Stephen’s going to pass out from over stimulation. His cock is twitching to a finish on his stomach. His ass squeezes at Jim’s cock; Jim pulls out with a sigh. 

He wipes himself off on Stephen’s ass, and he sits back in the pillows. 

He asks, “Feel anything?”

He’s not surprised when Stephen murmurs weakly, “Yes.”

“What?”

Stephen sighs. 

He spends a few minutes simply coming down from his high. Finally, he pushes up on his elbows, looking down at his stomach, slick with cum, panties still stretched around his thighs. His ass must be sore, but he doesn’t complain. He looks at Jim, and beyond the pleasure, his face is unreadable. Jim imagines Spock would say: “Fascinating.”

Stephen says, “Confusion.”

Jim smirks; fair enough. He waits for Stephen to go on. He knows there’s more. 

Tilting his head to the side, Stephen muses, “I suppose I feel... lucky.”

Smirking wider, Jim says, “Understandable.” There’s one more thing, he knows.

Stephen takes a moment. This is the hardest one, Jim thinks, because his face slips from neutrality. He sits up higher, and he puts his hand tentatively on Jim’s leg, over the fabric of Jim’s pants. Stephen looks at it, then at Jim’s face. 

He admits, “And perhaps... adoration.”

He leans forward to press a chaste kiss to Jim’s lips; Jim’s smiling. 

“We’ll expand on that tomorrow?” Jim offers. Stephen nods. 

Stephen grins, and it’s a simple movement, but Jim thinks it might be the most emotion he’s seen on any Vulcan. For once, it’s _natural_. He knows how much that ability must mean to Stephen. 

For that, more than anything, Jim’s pleased.


End file.
